


Lovely Chamomile

by pilotdiana



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Breathplay, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, Spanking, Swearing, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23190333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pilotdiana/pseuds/pilotdiana
Summary: Jaskier spoke too much and Geralt decided it was enough.Lots of manhandling, biting and slapping involved!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 332





	Lovely Chamomile

Jaskier let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding

There he was, sitting on the shared bed with the Witcher kneeling down between his legs. Geralt placed his hands on Jaskier’s knees, looking deep in his eyes. A couple white strands of hair framed his intense stare in the dim, candle lit room. 

Geralt's hands started to move up his thighs rather quickly, prompting Jaskier's commentary of how this and how that Geralt looked die in his throat. The hands were rough and wanting, sparing no time sliding straight to the drawstrings of the Bard's pants. "Fuck," he let out hastily, "okay, Geralt," 

Geralt felt the air get heavier with all the feelings Jaskier was going through. There was want, there's anticipation, a lot of excitement. Lust? Lovely. He loosened the Bard's drawstrings in mere seconds. His eyes drifted from Jaskier's face to where his hands were at work, hurrying, trying to tug the trousers off Jaskier, who was babbling on about how fast he was speeding through this. Geralt didn't get it. But he also couldn't give a lesser fuck any longer. 

"Bard," the Witcher said heavily and pressed his face against Jaskier's abdomen, which smelled of honey and lavender, ”shut up." His rough hands traveled up on Jaskier, lingering against his hips just for a minute, and then tugging up his shirt. Jaskier's words got caught in his throat, trying to find their way, but they couldn’t. Geralt's hands were harsh, they weren’t sweet in the slightest, not trying to please. The Witcher was here to take, not to give. The thought of that just made Jaskier blush, maybe a whimper escaping his lips he was trying to hold back. 

This wasn’t their first time by any means. Oh, no. They've made _love_ before, as Jaskier had said it, and they've _fucked,_ as Geralt had put it. Jaskier had enjoyed Geralt thoroughly, he had given, and he had taken. Geralt had done everything to please the Bard no matter what the place, position or order. Jaskier was always pleased. Just pristine, fucked and pleased. Left with happy feelings in his tummy and his dick and ass spent. Lovely. 

"Geralt," Jaskier whispered, as Geralt's hands found their way back to try to yank the pants off of Jaskier, only managing to pull the man on the bed, nearer the end, "Geralt we need a-" 

"I've got your oils," Geralt cut him off, clearly focusing on the Bard's smooth, uncovered skin. Jaskier replied with a nervous laughter, "No, no. Well, yes, that too, but-" he let out a hiss of pleasure when Geralt's hands roamed back up under his shirt, to his chest, brushed his fingers against his nipples. "W… _word_ ," Jaskier whispered. All of Geralt on him felt just lovely. All of Geralt's touches were sending blood downwards. 

Jaskier let out a string of love filled sounds that sure made Geralt feral. He sped up his pace and flushed himself more against the Bard on the bed, dragging his wet tongue up the happy trail, over his belly, and Jaskier took that as a cue to start undressing more, to give more space for the hungry mouth. He started to unbutton his shirt, but Geralt swatted his hands away, 

"Jaskier," the Bard's heartbeat quickened as Geralt stood up, big and strong, menacing even. He grabbed Jaskier by the collar, lifting the poor man right up, "Only _I_ touch you tonight," Geralt's sharp teeth flashed between his lips while he spoke, "You're _mine_ , for tonight, as you couldn't shut up about my needs," he whispered in a low, rough tone and stared the Bard down. "Safewor-", Jaskier stammered, but was cut off by Geralt once more -- this time Geralt ripped his shirt open, right off of his body. 

Jaskier thumped back on the bed, fear bubbled hard in his stomach. The Witcher just tore his fine cloth apart. What the fuck. He was frozen on the bed, clearly a little distressed by the whole act. He felt uncomfortably exposed. He slid one hand to awkwardly cover his hairy chest and knitted his brows together in thought.

Why was he being so rough? He was clearly enjoying this too, Jaskier thought to himself as he saw the man looming over him, and the obvious tent in his pants. That made him gulp, as he tried to keep all his movements as vague and slow as possible. Hesitatingly, Jaskier lifted his sights, afraid to make a move at this point. Geralt was undressing his own shirt, his muscles moving gracefully and looking as hot as ever. This image went straight to Jaskier’s dick. Wow. Then Jaskier realised that he too, was hard as fuck, despite of… or _from_ all the manhandling? He looked down on his own hard on, still trapped in his stupid, stupid, Stupid tight trousers. 

"Chamomile…," Geralt stated plainly, as he got the oil bottle from Jaskier’s bag, unbothered by the other one's confused stare. "Your safeword," Geralt sighed as an explanation. Jaskier couldn't react to it, only able to let out a surprised, stressed whine as Geralt picked him up by his arms with ease, as if Geralt was carrying a newborn pup rather than a grown man. Jaskier held his hands on Geralt's chest, sort of trying to keep the Witcher at bay. Jaskier bit down on his tongue and gulped as Geralt's other strong hand left to fondle his still covered ass. 

"Can't remember what you've said?" Geralt asked hungrily, his covered dick then pressing against Jaskier’s. The man winced at that, accidentally letting it turn into a moan. "About my _needs_? Did you even think before you let those words escape your precious lips?" Geralt continued and spun Jaskier around, roughly so, he fell face down on the mattress. 

Jaskier turned his head back to see what Geralt was talking about, but he was pushed back on his stomach immediately by a hand alone. His second attempt failed, as did his third, only getting pinned down more harshly than before. Jaskier felt anxious, but eager. His cock sure felt it too. Was he being put in place? And what was that, about Geralt's needs? Oh. Wait… 

Oh yes, now that he thought about it, he indeed had expressed what Geralt mentioned. 

Earlier. About his needs.

At the inn. Downstairs. About… four hours ago. 

There had been drinking, dining and singing as per usual. Jaskier’s performance had gone splendidly, so he was more eager than usual, and more eager usually meant a few more extra glasses of wine for Jaskier. Geralt had mostly just sat there, watching the Bard go from table to table, singing and playing his songs. When the Sun started to go down and candles got lit, Jaskier had basically sat on Geralt’s lap, making Geralt’s nose wrinkle in annoyance. Jaskier had asked, with a little blush across his face, was Geralt _actually_ happy with them. Like left feeling as Jaskier always was left. Whatever they did. In bed, that is. Because all that ever happened really was for Jaskier, wasn't it? Geralt hadn’t answered, since it looked like the Bard was about to give him a great lengthy monologue, as per usual for this level of tipsiness. Jaskier looked deep into Geralt’s yellow eyes, searching for emotion. Jaskier had asked for Geralt’s favorite moments, places and even other people he had done it with.

Geralt would've simply shrugged off this topic, but Jaskier had insisted that Geralt would take him next. He could _use_ him. Jaskier had run his hands over the Witcher's back, his chest, gone to cup his then growing boner under the table. "Maybe even here tonight, hm? I could be your precious… umm, whore?” Jaskier had run his hand through Geralt’s messy hair and smiled at his own choice of words, “Just a hole to fill. Just to be used for your pleasure, Witcher." Jaskier made a lustful remark on how he's no stranger to getting fucked, it wouldn't take long till his hole would be ready to take Geralt fully. He also savored the small twitch of smile on Geralt’s lips when he listed what he could do and be for the Witcher. "Wouldn't be a problem, to be your _whore_ " he whispered in Geralt’s ear, massaging the Witcher’s growing hard on. Geralt had practically pushed the Bard off of his lap, crossed his legs and downed his large pint of ale. 

As of now, Jaskier was feeling a lot more sober and sane while being pinned down by a large hand against the bed, and his trousers were clinging onto his ankle by a seam. Geralt had yanked them off before he realised it. Probably ripped the seams off of them too. Fuck. He felt a drop of sweat roll on his forehead. Jaskier felt the hand come off his back, and he sneaked a look behind him, as quietly and unmoved as possible. He saw the Witcher dropping his own pants, letting his cock hang freely in the thick air. Jaskier gulped at the sight, and his hips buck against the mattress ever so slightly in response. 

"Used for my pleasure," Geralt snickered and slapped Jaskier’s ass just to make a point, rewarded with a surprised gasp from the man. "Forgive me if I remember wrong, _Bard_ ," Jaskier shuddered at that a little, and brought his face back to his arms and pillows, hiding his anxious expression. Jaskier muttered a shaky _'fuck'_ to himself, twitching from the few heavy steps he heard the Witcher taking to get to him. He felt the bed dip from his sides, where Geralt leaned on to loom over Jaskier. 

Geralt pressed his mouth on Jaskier’s skin, but wouldn't kiss. The Witcher breathed in the lustful scent, mixed with the now growing scent of… fear. Geralt smirked, and Jaskier tried to shift his hips so he could get some friction going on to pleasure some pain in his swollen, mind you, _trapped_ dick. And then he heard Geralt speak, the air he breathed thick with want, 

"Hole to fill," Jaskier definitely shuddered at the sudden, melting whisper in his ear. His breath was awfully hot, and he himself was now awfully turned on. Geralt leaned in closer so his hardening cock was touching the Bard's thighs, sending a wave of feelings throughout the man. It was starting to be clear to Jaskier what was about to go down. 

He felt Geralt's hand grip on his neck now just for a second, sliding down his back to his bare ass, grabbing it briefly and letting go. Jaskier heard a flask open; must've been the oil. And right he was, as he felt the cold oil pour on his lower back and ass, making a mess. Geralt's hand followed soon enough, spreading the oil down his crack, over his hole, down to his balls. That made Jaskier hiss, and his hips wouldn't stop moving against the bed he had been pinned down to. The fingers wouldn't linger long on his balls, they were dragged back up to meet what was about to be Geralt's fuck hole. 

"Precious…?" Geralt let his voice drag, expecting for Jaskier to finish the sentence.

Jaskier knew what word he was looking for. Geralt wanted him to say what he was going to be for the Witcher today. The word died in Jaskier’s throat though, all he managed was a quiet huff and gulp. Suddenly Geralt lifted his hand from his ass, and caressed the back of his head. That felt nice and tender, but Jaskier’s mind wouldn’t let him enjoy the feeling as much as he would’ve liked to. Geralt’s hand disappeared above him, and from the corner of his eye he saw Geralt’s palm come down, fast. He was about to get hit -- Jaskier flinched before Geralt’s hand landed, and so he was smacked on the back of his head. It wasn't that hard, he didn't see any stars, but… 

The next smack made Jaskier wince from the pain. He tried to cover up his head with his own shaky hands, curling up in response. Geralt only growls and goes back to tease his hole more with his finger alone. "What are you, Jaskier?" the Witcher demands. As there was no immediate response, Geralt raised his hand yet again and smacked Jaskier’s bare ass, quickly developing an angry, red handprint on it. That made Jaskier gasp even louder, opening his eyes in shock. He couldn’t turn though, anxiety grew too big and powerful from a mere thought of meeting Geralt’s piercing gaze. Now, since Jaskier didn’t want to get slapped any longer, on _any_ part of his body, he groaned and breathed in to prepare himself. 

"... Whore?" Jaskier finally whimpered in a slightly more questioning tone as he intended, letting go of his head. His hips were bucking back to meet Geralt's fingers, one of which slid into him with ease. "Whore. Great, you do remember," Geralt whispered heavy with lust, clearly pleased with the Bard's answer, and bit sloppily into Jaskier’s neck with no clear warning. It startled the man, and he let out a surprisingly loud voice of discomfort, even though no blood was drawn. A bruise was definitely going to appear, though. 

Jaskier wasn't fully aware of what was going on. He also didn't know what was going to happen next. Fear and anxiety rumbled in his limbs and stomach, and his fingers were digging into the mattress. All he felt was Geralt's finger in him and his teeth on his neck. He was too startled to really say anything, his thoughts being a mess. Geralt dragged his teeth down Jaskier’s back, nibbling, like testing the skin if it was going to break. Jaskier felt weird now, he even had stopped humping the bed too. He wasn't sure of this. But at the same time, he…

"Ah, fast?" Jaskier lifted his head up when he felt two more fingers on his asshole, pushing and stretching. Jaskier’s head was pushed back down now, roughly, with a low sound of displeasure as a warning. Jaskier felt heavy, his ass was being spread and his head pushed against the bed by Geralt. "That's a lot, Geralt," Jaskier whined, growing in panic and worry. It granted him a slap on his head. That stung longer, and back was his face pressing down against the mattress. Jaskier felt flimsy. He felt powerless in Geralt’s arms. His breathing heaved a little and his heart was pounding at his throat, Geralt must've noticed it.

"You can take it," Geralt disregarded him bluntly, diving back to his neck while his fingers fucked him open. Jaskier let out a moan, hissing from the slight discomfort, and moaned again calling out Geralt when he felt like the man was being too rough. "Wouldn't be a problem…", was all Geralt said in response, never slowing down. Jaskier was sweating. 

The alarmed calls turned more and more wanton every time Geralt mouthed his shoulders and neck. He wasn't biting, really, only testing and nibbling, dragging his teeth across the sweaty skin. The Witcher’s fingers in Jaskier started to feel good too, the initial pain soon made way for pleasure. Geralt felt the stench of fear disappear from the air, and the lust and want taking its place rapidly. 

Geralt grunted at that. He took his fingers out of the Bard and dragged them along Jaskier’s sides, all the way up to his shoulders and stopped at Jaskier’s arms. Geralt felt the tense muscles and circled his thumbs over them. Geralt had his face pressed against Jaskier, nuzzling the crook of the man’s neck. He breathed in the air around Jaskier, heavy and hard, and then bit roughly the Bard's shoulder, this time drawing blood. Jaskier cried out from the sharp, piercing pain and propped himself up with arms. "What the fuck, Geralt?" Jaskier yelled, but as soon as the Witcher's name rolled off of his lips, he was shoven back down, now pinned by the whole mass of Geralt. He could _barely_ breathe. A droplet of blood mixed with Geralt's saliva dropped on Jaskier's cheek. It dripped all the way down to his chin and finally on to the covers of the bed.

Jaskier’s whole body went into a tiny lockdown, because what the fuck? He struggled to move, but that just made Geralt get more on top of him, straddling him by the thighs. Jaskier would’ve been lying if he said underneath the growing panic wasn't a thrill of excitement. Still, mostly fucking scary. The Witcher could crack his spine with the sheer mass he had. And then, Jaskier felt Geralt’s massive cock being held against his ass cheeks. The Witcher stroked his dick against Jaskier’s ass, messing it up with the oils on the man. Jaskier felt the bed creak as to warn Jaskier about the other one’s next move, which came very soon. Geralt wouldn’t say a word, not grunt, not his usual _hmm_ , all he did was guide his thick cock against Jaskier’s hole. 

"Oh my-- _FUCK_ ," Jaskier’s voice hitched, because as sudden as Geralt thrusted into him, he started pounding into his ass. The bed creaked dangerously by the sudden weight, and kept creaking while the Witcher took what was apparently his. Jaskier’s ass felt that. He was being spread open by Geralt's stupidly thick cock, but the pinning down eased just a little, and Jaskier was heaving, struggling to catch his breath. 

Jaskier tried to move his arms to his sides, and Geralt snapped at them. He twisted them so that Jaskier let out a moan that turned into curses. Jaskier’s eyes were blown wide, as he tried to arch his back to meet with Geralt's demands, pleading him to slow down. The air was getting thicker with worry, with concern, fear… Geralt breathed it all in, thrusting his cock deeper into Jaskier, who was shivering from the pain rumbling in his arms. The man was panting, drool hanging from the corner of his mouth.

Jaskier couldn’t get half of a word out when the Witcher set one foot on the floor and repositioned himself on him, pushing Jaskier back down on the bed. His quiet pleas were muffled, and his ass was being fucked once again, rough and deep to please the Witcher.

This continued for a while, Jaskier's moans turning more and more into strings of ouches, owws and 'That hurts.' In spite of the displeased sounds he made, the air was thick, heavily filled with want and lust. Geralt let his mass lower back on to the Bard, his pace slowing just a little, thrusts becoming a little easier for Jaskier to handle. Jaskier's back was glistening with the oil that was spread, and his own sweat. A swell bite mark on his shoulder to crown the sight. 

Jaskier felt spent. His ass was sore, his dick remained untouched under him. Gods, he wanted to give himself a stroke or two, to ease some pain. He felt precum spilling from his throbbing cock, his belly felt wet and icky against the mattress. Geralt hadn't spoken a word, only a few satisfactorily grunts and hisses when he was going faster, when Jaskier was sure he would've spilled his seed in him. But he didn't. Geralt hadn't come for at least an hour. 

Wait, fuck, how long had it been? Jaskier was suddenly alarmed. He could've sworn he heard Geralt laugh above him, which made him just shudder. His pace was slow, it was still needy and in charge, but clearly slower. As if the Witcher was savoring the moment. Jaskier gulped, he feared to look at the Witcher. He felt Geralt press his body down on his back, and his head dipping next to his. Geralt pressed his nose against Jaskier’s ear, all the way to meet his cheek, invading the little private space he had. Jaskier's belly was full of butterflies now, suddenly very shy and aware of his position. He felt Geralt's hot breath and piercing stare, even if he had closed his eyes. 

"My _whore_?" The words rolled thick like honey from the Witcher's tongue, full of demand, full of control. His hips stalled, his dick buried deep in Jaskier. Jaskier breathed out and opened his eyes, and Jaskier’s gaze met the Witcher's hungry, fierce stare. That made Jaskier feel as mushy inside as it made his dick throb in pain underneath him. Jaskier let out a shaky breath.

And that was when Geralt thrusted his hips in even more, suddenly, too much and too hard. Jaskier flung his head up, and let out a loud " _FUCK_ " which could surely be heard down at the inn. That was too much for him to take, and his mind was clouded with panic. The man tried to pry his way out, to get some space. His legs kicked in the air, and they had hit Geralt in the process, for Jaskier heard the Witcher curse loudly. Geralt then, wasting no more time, slammed his broad hands on the Bard's sweaty back, dragged over the bite mark, and took a hold of his shoulders, digging into the Bard’s skin with his nails. Geralt had way more strength than Jaskier, and today Jaskier felt like all of this was just feeding into his animalistic, brute force. Oh, fuck. Jaskier could all but let out a hysterical laugh that was burning in his throat as Geralt pushed Jaskier back to meet his throbbing cock. It. Hurt. Tears started to pour, not that Jaskier wouldn’t be able to take notice anyway. He was too busy trying to wrap his mind around what was happening, trying to give it words, but it was all so hazy. He was nearing his breaking point.

Jaskier let out a long, melting moan. He was sweaty all over. He hurt all over. The movements had stalled for a split second, and Jaskier was weirdly glad Geralt savored the moment, keeping his cock buried as deep as he could in Jaskier. He had time to breathe. And then, Geralt's hips twitched, and his cock started sliding in and out, his pace getting quicker and quicker. Jaskier cried out. He couldn’t hold it back. Geralt flashed his white teeth in his smirk, and kept pounding in him. Jaskier was sweating heavily, his body more numb by the minute. His head felt stupid light, and all he could hear at the time was Geralt’s low, lewd growls and his heavy breathing. 

Soon enough, Geralt pulled away with no warning. He exhaled long and Jaskier was left alone, open on the bed. He heard low growls that came from deep within Geralt's body, and then his hot seed dripped onto Jaskier’s back. Jaskier wouldn’t even turn his head to see, he was… too exhausted. He felt very, very spent. His ass hurt, he was sure he would find himself unable to walk downstairs tomorrow. If he even could get out of bed at all.

Geralt sighed heavily, and again was on Jaskier with his full body, nuzzling against Jaskier’s neck and messed up hair. Jaskier shut his eyes to savor this little comfort he felt to somehow… deserve. Geralt's hand started to massage his side, and it soon found its way to his asscheek, somewhat caressing it, adding up the pressure as his fingers creeped near Jaskier’s used hole. Was he going for the second round so quick? 

"G… Geralt," was all Jaskier managed to groan as he tried to shift under Geralt's heavy chest. “Not done,” Geralt licked Jaskier’s ear, nibbling it and sending shivers down Jaskier’s spine. As Geralt stood up, Jaskier turned his head ever so slightly to see if Geralt was serious. Sure enough, Jaskier could see Geralt stroking his own dick, which was still dripping cum. Geralt let his cock rest on Jaskier’s ass, and looked fairly pleased from what Jaskier could make out of his face in the dim light. Then, Geralt took a hold of Jaskier’s thighs, all ready to push in. Jaskier didn’t have strength to do anything but turn his head away and get ready for the next round.

Geralt pushed in with ease. 

Jaskier's breathing hindered as he tried to keep his head clear. The Witcher had pounded into him with brute force, opening him wide for a good while now. All this and Jaskier had neither been allowed to move nor allowed to touch himself: Every time he tried, he was either pushed back to his belly, straining his own cock under him or Geralt adjusting his hips so his thrusts would set Jaskier scream and sweat profoundly. His hair was stuck to his forehead and his back was covered with both Geralt's sweat and cum. Some blood. A great mixture of Jaskier's own sweat and the oils Geralt poured every now and then. 

Jaskier counted three more spills onto his back from Geralt, one of which was so powerful it had hit him in his shoulders and hair. He felt awfully gross. He smeared the cum on his hair, trying to get it off with no effort and no result.

Geralt was sweating too, Jaskier could feel it whenever the Witcher flushed his body against his. Jaskier could feel Geralt's heartbeat, and he was sure Geralt could feel his in return. They were both panting, Jaskier slightly more than the larger figure above him. A drop of sweat dripped from Geralt's chin and hit the Bard's neck. 

"Hey," Geralt had spoken suspiciously tender, but Jaskier didn’t respond. Geralt's breath was a little tense, and he called for the unresponsive Bard again, who was laying on the bed below him, limp and numb to touch. Jaskier felt used. "Say something, Bard," he asked as he turned Jaskier over to his side and further to his back, hiding the mess and exposing his twitching cock covered in precum. Jaskier's eyes fluttered in the dim light, only seeing Geralt's yellow, shining eyes in the night. 

But Jaskier couldn't find words. He couldn't think of any. His ass hurt like a commonwhore hurt after a full night's gangbang, which made Jaskier exhale sharply, lightheartedly laugh as best he could with his sore throat. Wasn't that just what was happening to him? Except it was only one animalistic, raw Witcher having a go at his body. 

Jaskier’s eyes traveled down on Geralt's body, which was now getting closer again. "Ah… again?" he gasped hoarsely, closing his eyes to prepare himself for yet another hour of fucking. If it was possible, he felt like his body sunk in on itself. Jaskier felt quite miserable. Tears spilled from his eyes. Fuck. Was he crying? How long had he been crying? His stomach turned. Now that his own, swollen, irritated cock was met with the cold air, all he wanted to do was touch it. Just to get the tension off, just to get a little satisfaction after all of this merciless fucking. He was sure that if he did try, he would get his hands twisted or neck snapped. He held his eyes closed and dragged his hand to cover his shamefully red and puffy cheeks. Jaskier honestly couldn’t give a fuck what happened next, he just wanted to get off. His brain was cloudy, his thoughts were a mess. 

Jaskier took his chances, and let his hand creep closer to his throbbing cock. He felt tears burn his eyes and cheeks, and his breath hiccuped. The Bard felt absolutely useless. His expression was hidden behind his hand, but he was sure Geralt could at least smell his dread and need to come. His hand stopped at his stomach when he heard the Witcher hum low and dangerous. _Fuck_. That was it. Panic filled his body as he froze, mind blowing up with images how the Witcher was going to punish him for trying that. Was he getting a bite at his neck? Throat? He would bleed to death. Or maybe he bruised his hands, so he was unable to play. He couldn’t bring himself to move in any direction. He was starting to hyperventilate. He felt the Witcher’s strong hands on his thighs, circling his thumbs against Jaskier’s wet skin. Jaskier was going to pass out--

And then to Jaskier’s biggest surprise yet, he felt Geralt's hair tickle his hips, and the Witcher’s lips at the base of Jaskier’s swollen cock. Geralt dragged his wet tongue up against Jaskier’s hot length, and took Jaskier into his mouth in one go, all the way to the base. Jaskier couldn’t think, all he did was moan deep and loud, screaming Geralt’s name as he spilled his seed instantly, bucking his hips more into Geralt’s throat. Geralt took it well, he didn’t even flinch from the sudden thrust, but he _hummed_ and the vibrations from his throat made Jaskier lose it even more. Jaskier’s arms flew above his head, back arching and legs twisting around Geralt’s neck and shoulders. He saw _stars_ , his head went absolutely blank. For fleeting seconds, he felt… pristine… he felt _lovely_. An exhausted smile appeared on his face. 

And then the reality of it all creeped back. He was all the way sweaty, all the way covered in cum, in oil, in tears and snot. He felt the tears roll on his cheek and drip to the sheets under.

Disgusting. 

Geralt let Jaskier’s cock slip out of his mouth. Some of Jaskier’s cum was dripping from Geralt’s lips even though the Witcher had done his best to swallow it up, but Jaskier’s load had been more than he thought. Geralt wiped his lips with the back of his hand and wiped it onto the Bard’s inner thigh, then guiding Jaskier’s legs down. "You can say it." 

Jaskier opened his eyes to meet the Witcher's now slightly tamed gaze. How offbrand of him. Jaskier understood what word he was looking for, and he shook his head. He felt spent, yes, he felt gross, yes, but he also came and that felt wonderful. He's been manhandled through the whole night, he had been smacked, bitten, he was sore and sweaty but now he wanted more. For _Geralt_. He had been pleasing Geralt and he wanted to show and give him more. Geralt also had pleased him, which Jaskier wasn’t sure was it planned or not. Jaskier sighed.

The Bard knew how this twisted game worked now. Jaskier’s breathing was stable, there was no fear lingering in the air any longer. He tried to nudge his hips more, spreading his legs open to expose his cock, his ass… 

"H…" Jaskier huffed, "whore…" he said hoarsely, arching his back. "I'm your whore… for tonight, _love_ ," Jaskier couldn't help but smile when Geralt smirked, looking away briefly as to hide the enjoyment on his face. He readjusted his place between Jaskier's wide open legs again. 

"For tonight," Geralt slowly agreed, turning his face to the man on the bed. The man shivered in anticipation. Jaskier was sure he felt Geralt's hands on his thighs shiver a bit too, and it made Jaskier’s heart flutter. The Witcher, visibly excited and fuming with want, hovering over Jaskier’s body. 

It was lovely. 

And it was for Geralt. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you liked it!  
> It was my first proper fic, go easy on me!!!!


End file.
